Mrs Hudson is a rabbit
by EterPuralis
Summary: What it says in the title. If boredom ensues, please... Don't shoot the wall. What did the wall ever do to you anyway?


Author's note: Boredom bunny barely worth the name. But I need practice and I'm an attention whore, so read it at your own risk. ... Yeah. I'd be rubbish in PR.

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**Mrs Hudson is a rabbit**

Mrs Hudson was a rabbit. Everyone knew it. Every odd week, she'd turn and there'd be a bit of an inconvenience as Sherlock had never quite figured out how to feed himself. So when he decided to get himself a flat mate, Mrs Hudson felt immediately relieved. She wasn't his house keeper after all, and the sooner he got some attention closer to home, the better. Now if only she could get him married off as well... She mustn't hope for too much.

"Now you be nice to him when he turns up, Sherlock!" She told him firmly as he was leaving for the hospital that morning. "And you should probably clean up a little, no one likes to come home to a health hazard."

She didn't know that much about her new renter, but he seemed like a nice solid sort. He would have to be, if he was going to put up with Sherlock. Don't get me wrong, she loved that boy, but he could be so difficult. It was a shame really. He was sweet once he put his mind to it, she knew that well enough.

Then came the first instance of rabbit-ification. She was standing there doing the dishes per usual, and suddenly she had paws full of soapy bubbles instead of hands. Cursing inwardly, she jumped on to the bench before her diminishing stature made it impossible. The detergent smeared into her fur began to itch after a while, but while she tried to turn on the tap with her face, she found herself merely slipping off the buttons with little to no effect.

There was nothing for it but to wait until one of the boys came home. She was tucked in between the kettle, the sink and some beaker of questionable use, and she was quite sure she didn't wish to stay that way for long. She spared a moment of frustrated thought over the clean dishes lying there drying up without a proper rinse. She would have to start all over again once she came back to herself. Lord knew John had enough going on what with the clinic and dealing with Sherlock to have to face all of it himself, and Sherlock probably wouldn't even think about it. He always got so lost in that big brain of his.

Two hour passed before she heard the door in the hall open. "Sherlock? You home?" He wasn't, she knew, he'd left for the park some three hours ago, before she'd started cleaning, muttering something about keeping the lines smooth and running. As long as he got some fresh air, she thought.

"..." John had spotted her. "There's a rabbit. In the kitchen. Why is there a rabbit in the kitchen..." Oh dear. She was so used to everyone knowing anyway, it hadn't occurred to her that John didn't – and anyway she would have expected Sherlock to tell him. Of all the times he would choose to be considerate with other people's secrets! Not that it was much of a secret. Oh, what she would tell that boy once she got her body back!

John walked around to the sink, taking in the half-finished array of plates and cups. "Mrs Hudson? Are you in here?" he looked out through the tight passage leading out of the kitchen, and then round, searching. Frowning, he turned his attention to the rabbit again. "Hm." Then he noticed her disheveled state. "Looks like someone needs a wash. Come here..." He turned the tap on and put her under, gently, one paw at a time. Then he picked up a dish towel and started drying her off.

"I really hope Sherlock isn't planning on putting you in the micro wave." Mrs Hudson could only sigh inwardly, but she felt much better now that she was at least reasonably clean. If only she would turn back soon, she would be ever so much better. Instead, she found herself carried toward the couch. She was placed right next to John as he turned on the tv and started watching, petting her sporadically between the ears.

"You know, if it weren't so bizarre, I'd almost think you were Mrs Hudson. Let's see... If I were Sherlock, I would say... Oh, 'dishes half way done, obviously displaced rabbit right next to the sink'... What else... Well. This is why he's the genius and I'm not, I guess. And then he'd end it all with a great big 'Obvious' , like any other conclusion is absolutely ridiculous." She could feel the slow rumble of his laugh through the leg she was lying against. "Sometimes I almost think he makes it up. And then of course, he proves me wrong."

He was silent for a while, lost in thought. "Sometimes I think I love him." Mrs Hudson's ears perk up. She really shouldn't be listening to this, John has no idea the rabbit he is talking to is actually her, but it isn't like she can just turn of her hearing, is it? And if she couldn't be a bit curious after all the things they out her through, what with trashing the apartment and running around at all hours, having her take care of them, getting in hostage situations, then, really. She just wants her boys to be happy. Lord knew Sherlock might not find anyone else, and if John... No, she stopped herself. Emma played match maker, and you know how it turned out for her. This was their business. But perhaps she could give them a nudge in the right direction. It all depended on what John said next. If he did say anything next.

He didn't, but went on to flip through the channels and, when he found nothing interesting, went up and got himself a book. Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock came home.

"Ah, Sherlock. Just who I wanted to talk to. If you're planning on doing anything the least harmful to that rabbit, I'll have you know there are laws against animal cruelty, and I'm not having you kill a rabbit in our flat either, if that's what you were thinking. You're going to have to find something else to experiment on." Sherlock looks nonplussed for a moment, then his gaze zeroes in on Mrs Hudson. "Ah. I forgot to tell you."

"You're damn right you did." John sits with his arms crossed, book dangling from his left hand.

"No, I mean, that rabbit. It's Mrs Hudson." Now John just looks bemused. "How did you know what I was... No, wait, what?"

"It's Mrs Hudson. Every once in a while, she turns into a rabbit. I meant to tell you when you moved in, but then, as I'm sure you can recall, things 'happened'."

"No, wait, you're telling me Mrs Hudson turns into a rabbit. You realize that's not physically possible."

"And yet, it is true."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I can assure you, I am not. And once we get Mrs Hudson restored to her apartment, I'm sure she will tell you in the morning once she has regained her customary human form."

"Sherlock. Rabbits don't...Rabbits, no. What?" Sherlock sighs, exasperated.

"I'd say shock does wonders with your vocabulary, but I'd be lying. Oh, give her here. I'll take her."

promptly, Mrs Hudson finds herself picked up and pressed against Sherlock's chest. "I hope you didn't reveal something incriminating. I know how some people like to talk to pets." Mrs Hudson is turned just well enough to see John's adams apple bob up and down as he swallows. Poor John. Sherlock wouldn't miss that. "Well, I'm sure Mrs Hudson knows how to be discreet."

"I'm still not convinced that's her."

"Please John, when have I ever lied to you?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, but to _you_ John?"

"I guess we'll see that in the morning," John says weakly. Sherlock tsks. "Such a lack of faith."

After that, Mrs Hudson is carried back into her flat and placed on her bed. "Whatever he told you... Don't tell anyone. Not even me. Do you understand?" Mrs Hudson thinks about it for a second, but she knows Sherlock is probably right. She does wish she could just scream it at him though. He loves you! How Sherlock felt about John had been clear to her from the get go. But, stubborn as he was, of course he would like to figure everything out on his own. She nods to the best of her ability.

The next day the whole thing is explained. John takes it all very well, but he does seem just a bit awkward. Afterwards she takes him aside and tells him of her promise to Sherlock. John looks... touched. Anyone else would see their privacy being respected as something natural, but not John. No, John smiles and says; "Really? He said that?" Like it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. She hummed a bit inside. She hoped they got together soon. This had the potential to start getting silly very soon. And then she went back to hers, resolving to help them out with their house work some other day.


End file.
